Something More
by ArashiKishu1
Summary: Sometimes an unexpected person can unexpectedly change a person's life...for the better. A Draco/Ginny fic.
1. Same Old Line

Author's Notes: I decided to start writing in the Harry Potter fandom, specifically Draco/Ginny. I'm used to the realm of Final Fantasy, so please bear with me while I get the whole 'magical wands' thing sorted out. Note that this fic takes place post-Hogwarts. Draco is twenty and Ginny is nineteen.

Disclaimer: Dobby...you know the house elf...yes, him. He owns everything. …All right, to be on the safe side…JK Rowling.

_Something More_

Chapter I: _Same Old Line_

By ArashiKishu__

Hogsmeade was quite a lively little village during the holiday season, and with Christmas only fifteen days away, there was a lot to be done; sweets to be purchased from Honeydukes and dinner invitations to be sent out from the owl post office.

The cold winter weather certainly didn't prevent anyone from coming down to the only all-wizard town in Britain, in fact, most people fancied standing out in the snow, conversing with friends and catching up on old memories. Essentially, Hogsmeade was a gathering place for witches and wizards alike.

It had been snowing now for nearly six days straight, and the prospect of a white Christmas had everyone in high spirits.

Well…almost everyone.

Ginny Weasely stood leaning behind the shoppe counter, chin in her hand as she peered out the large window, watching the little children run around in circles while they happily chucked balls of snow at one another. She watched as couples passed, holding hands and grinning wholeheartedly.

Oh how she wished she could switch places with any of them.

The Weasley's, primarily Fred and George, had opened up a store in Hogsmeade - Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, after the owner of Zonko's Joke Shop retired at the age of seventy. He had agreed to give the family a generous discount on the shop, and they had gladly accepted.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had thus far done extremely well. People simply adored Fred and George's crazy contraptions; Ton-Tongue Toffees, Canary Creams, et cetera. The two mischievous men were constantly creating new and amusing inventions.

She supposed some people never grew up. Her brothers certainly had a way with the kids, anyway, and not so much the adults.

Ginny had decided to help out with the store, doing small jobs such as keeping up with the maintenance, greeting customers and whatever else Fred and George would probably forget to do, and it had undoubtedly contributed to the success of the place.

The youngest Weasely figured that working at the store would take her mind off of the fact that she didn't really have much of an eventful life. Yet even with that, Ginny still felt that something was missing from her life. Something…she didn't know what exactly, but the girl held onto the less than promising belief that maybe, whatever it was, it had just been misplaced somewhere, and that it would eventually come back to her.

Virginia didn't think herself pretty, never did. She never wore any makeup, never did anything special with her hair, and her clothing always seemed so...so plain...so simple. 

Ginny was a Weasely, and if a Weasely ever stood out, it usually wasn't a good thing.

Throughout her years at Hogwarts, her siblings had to some extent overshadowed her. They were always getting into mischief, always breaking the rules, and for the most part behaving like giant goofs...but they were _known for it. Among the Gryffinfors, at least. But Ginny...she had always remained hidden in the shadows, along with the title of "Ron's __little sister", regardless of the fact that he was only a year older._

Ginny was always…just Ginny. Just Ginny. 

And at nineteen, that was all she was convinced she would ever be.

Suddenly, the form of Mrs. Weasely apparated right in front of the girl's eyes. Ginny jumped back, startled. "Mum," she breathed, placing a delicate pale hand over her chest. "You scared me." 

"Sorry about that, dear," Molly laughed, patting her daughter on the back. 

The stout woman looked around the room suspiciously. "It's terribly quiet in here…where are Fred and George?" The woman paused, before pointing a finger at Ginny. "They didn't leave you to do everything, did they?" she questioned angrily, but the remark resembled more of an accusation that anything else.

"No mum, they just walked down to The Three Broomsticks to get themselves some lunch," Ginny replied. Stepping over to the shelf next to the counter, she began to stock it with Cockroach Clusters, candies believed to actually have real cockroaches inside.

Mrs. Weasely watched with a hint of a frown, as her daughter aimlessly stocked the shelves, not even appearing to be paying attention to the task. Just doing. "Oh…well aren't you hungry?" the woman inquired. 

"Not especially, no," the redhead answered.

"Virginia, dear…I'm awfully worried about you." Ginny didn't dare to turn around and look at her mother, aware that if she did, she'd see nothing but worry etched across her face. So instead, she continued to place the packages of magical candy on the shelves. Her mother continued, realizing that Ginny wasn't going to reply. "It just seems that you're always so...distracted from..." the woman momentarily trailed off "well..Everything, really."

Finally, Virginia turned around. "Mum, I'll be fine. Really," the girl assured, not wanting her mother to worry. _I'm always fine_, she thought bitterly. 

Walking up to Ginny, Molly cupped her daughter's face with her hand, and sighed in defeat. The last thing she wanted to do was force the information out of her. "Alright, dear...just remember; you can talk to me. Anytime. About anything. Okay?" Ginny nodded, albeit reluctantly, and Mrs. 

Weasely dropped her hand. "Well, I should probably get back to your father. When I left, he was trying to magic one of those Muggle radios...or whatever you call them."

Ginny forced out a little laugh, certain that it would put her mother at ease. However, it only caused Mrs. Weasely to tilt her head to the side and offer Virginia a brief, yet curious glance. 

She knew.

"Just keep in mind what I said," she pressed, giving her daughter a sympathetic smile. "And tell Fred and George that I said not to leave you here alone all the time!" Then the plump little woman was gone. Dissapparated, of coarse. 

Ginny let out a breath of relief. Mrs. Weasely could see right through her cheerful masquerade, and every time she saw her mother, the redhead felt a fresh pang of guilt. Ginny couldn't believe herself; she was actually beginning to _dread her own mother's visits._

Frowning, she glanced around the room to see if anything needed to be done, anything that might divert her attention from her current predicament. She reckoned Fred and George would be gone for at least a half an hour. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny noticed her family's precious flower vase sitting on the desk in the corner of the room, filled with beautiful pink and white camellias, a winter flower. The piece of pottery had survived several generations of Weasely ancestry, and she had to wonder why her mother would trust Fred and George with it.

Walking over to the desk, Virginia picked up the vase, feeling that the arrangement would look much more wonderful near the front window.

_It's always the same old bloody line_…"I'm _fine_…" she scoffed aloud, walking towards the window next to the door. "Fine, fine, fine, fine-"

The sound of the creaky old door opening abruptly stopped Ginny from her venting. She plastered on a warm smile, ready to greet the new customer...only...when the person's face became visible, Ginny's smile immediately fell and her brown eyes widened.

It was Draco Malfoy.

The vase unconsciously slipped through her fingers, though she vaguely heard the diminishing sound of delicate porcelain shattering into thousands of pieces of Weasely family heirloom. 

Horrified, Ginny stepped back until she was completely pressed against the wall.

Draco's face and ripped shirt were almost entirely veiled by dirt and mud, as well as the unmistakable red fluid - blood. His arm was tightly clutched at his side, and the exposed skin was covered in cuts and bruises, which horribly complemented his blue and black left eye.

He stood there, coughing, shoulders slumped, body shaking from the frigid weather outside...

"So it's true..." he sputtered, along with bits of crimson-coloured blood, before collapsing to the ground with a sickening _clunk._

To be continued.


	2. Lost or Found

A/N:  I'm thinking of adding another category to this story, maybe mystery or adventure.  Should I?- or should it just stay romance? 

Disclaimer: All characters, spells, et cetera, belong to JK Rowling. This fic, as a whole, will be based off of music by Train. 

_Something More_

Chapter II: _Lost or Found_

By ArashiKishu

Ginny's hand clutched the edge of the desk so hard that her knuckles began to turn white. The color had drained from her face and the lump in her throat had to be the size of a Gillyweed by now. Her body was so stiff and rigid that even the Whomping Willow would not be able to knock her down. 

She swallowed, slowly, attempting to determine whether he was still alive from nearly nine feet away. It was useless, of coarse. 

Draco's usually sleek, silver hair was now matted across his forehead in a wet, sloppy mess of dirt, sweat, and melted ice. How he even made it to the door was beyond Ginny; she could barely walk outside with just a sweater on, and Draco was wearing nothing but a flimsy, ripped up shirt and pair of dark pants that were severely torn at the bottom. 

Albeit hesitantly, Ginny took her eyes off of Draco and glanced around the room, anxiously searching for her wand. She discovered the thin piece of wood lying on the desk where the vase was formerly located.

Speaking of the vase...

_Oh for cripes sake... _She brought her hand to her forehead, slowly closing her eyes and releasing a shaky sigh. _Mum's going to kill me. _Just as slowly, she opened her eyes, realizing there was a more urgent matter, or rather, person to deal with.__

"_Accio wand__!" she muttered, loud enough for the spell to work. Her fingers wrapped around the nine inch, mahogany wand, before she promptly turned and focused her source of magic on the only other subject present in the room._

Ginny desperately tried to compose herself as she advanced towards Draco. She brushed a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes, wand still fervently pointed at the blonde.

After what seemed like an eternity, the youngest Weasely finally approached the unconscious individual. Bending down on her knees, she surveyed Draco's limp form. Even in his current state of appearance, his chest still rose up and down, breath shallow, but steady.  

What was she supposed to do? 

Of all the things Ginny could ever expect to happen, having Malfoy appear at her doorstep was by far at the bottom of the list. After all..As far as she was concerned, Draco had disappeared directly after the last fall of Lord Voldemort in Harry's final year at Hogwarts.

Whether he was involved in the whole ordeal was still unknown to Ginny. It was difficult for people to really determine who was on which side during that time, anyway. Though, his rather untimely disappearance was close to a dead giveaway. 

No one in the world of wizards, at least to her knowledge, had seen or heard from the Slytherin since then.

That fact, of coarse, didn't really apply anymore.

Ginny sighed. As much as she hated Draco Malfoy, leaving him to die was not something the girl would receive great pleasure from, regardless of the fact that if Ginny were in his situation, Draco would gladly do the above. 

"_Mobilicorpus..." she commanded, a little reluctantly, and with a swish of her wand, Draco was hovering in mid-air._

Ginny guided his prone form up the old and creaky wooden staircase, and past the small room where Fred and George conducted their many...experiments. She would never in her right mind enter that room, the things those two did. Dungbomb modification trials that went terribly wrong, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs that..well..the rather large gash in the wall could speak for itself, not to mention the time when George wanted to verify the strength of Belch Powder. 

The room was entirely a mess...but at least they had their fun. 

The only other room in the upstairs of the shop had been used by the previous owner, in which he slept there often. There was a single bed in the middle of the room, with cream-coloured sheets and pillows. Sheer draperies adorned the window, only slightly tapering the sunlight that shown through. 

Ginny regretted ruining the ethereal beauty of the room by setting Draco on the small bed.

She stood there for a moment, biting on her bottom lip in quiet apprehension. The only healing potions she knew of were in the room down the hall; Fred and George used them all the time for minor explosions.

If her brothers were to discover a large amount of potions missing, they would start asking questions, and the last thing Ginny wanted was for her family to find out she was nursing an enemy back to health. Ron would flip.

So Draco would just have to heal the hard way. The Muggle way. 

Ginny gathered a small basin filled with warm water, and a washcloth. Dipping the cloth into the water, she wrung out the excess liquid and placed it to his forehead. 

The girl felt strangely uncomfortable as she delicately wiped away the blood and dirt from his face. The action seemed a little to intimate for Ginny's liking, seeing as she was disgusted by Draco's very existence in her life.

She'd have to clean the wounds on his chest to prevent infection, meaning the shirt--well, what was left of it--would have to go. 

Ginny unfastened the remaining buttons on his shirt, sliding the piece of cloth from his shoulders and down his forearms---

She all but choked at the sight of Draco's inner forearm, for clearly etched across it was the spitting image of a skull with a serpentine snake, dark viridian with blazing red eyes, protruding through it's mouth, and a penetrating glare that chilled her bones to the core. 

It was the Dark Mark---it had to be. Books at Hogwarts, save for the ones in the restricted section, didn't have much information on the Dark Mark. They acknowledged it's existence in the world of wizarding, calling it a symbol of pure evil and infernal plague, but images of the mark were not provided due to their overwhelming and disturbing nature. 

_Draco's a Death Eater. Oh god, Draco is a **Death Eater**, _Ginny panicked. 

_But...Voldemort is gone_, she assured herself. _Gone forever. _

If he was a Death Eater, or rather, a _former_ Death Eater, it meant he was highly dangerous, and Ginny didn't want to be anywhere near him. But now, she didn't even have the bravery to do anything. 

But she needed to do _something_. The first thing, she realized, was to check if he was armed. 

So, frantically, she checked his pockets, torn as they were, for something akin to a wand.

And she found it, sticking out of his left pocket, but only just. She grabbed the thing, her slender fingers grasping around the long--twelve inches to be exact—piece of ink-like coloured wood that seemingly shimmered in the light. 

Coiled around the handle of the wand was an intricately carved serpent, and Ginny swore she could hear the beast hissing and biting at her, cursing the girl for even daring to touch the precious wand. 

Obviously, the wand was filled with the darkest of powers, powers that were only meant to be used by the darkest of wizards.

The wand scared Ginny, as well as the mark on Draco's arm. It reminded the girl of her unfortunate exposure to the dark side in her second year at Hogwarts, the year she had so desperately tried to forget. 

Virginia was too distracted with the wand to notice Draco's stormy grey eyes snap open. His head jerked to the side, abruptly indicating to Ginny that he was indeed awake.

"What the hell do you think your doing!?" he demanded.

Without thinking of the possible consequences, Ginny pointed the wand at Malfoy. 

Though her grip was shaky, her words were firm. 

"Don't move," she warned. 

To be continued.

Reviews are always welcome, as well as any advice you can give me. Thanks.


	3. A Little Respect

A/N: Thank you Eclipsed Planet. I must admit your review was what finally pushed me to write this chapter. Wrote it in two hours…a record for me.

Disclaimer: You know, the usual. JK Rowling.

Something More 

Chapter III: _A Little Respect_

By ArashiKishu

To no prevail, Virginia attempted to rummage through her mind, desperately searching for a response. In truth, she didn't even _know_ what the hell she was doing. But the girl wasn't about to let him figure that out. No, she was going to make it through Draco Malfoy, the source of unquenchable wrath that currently was sitting upright on the little bed, eyes scintillating with anger. Anger that was primarily directed towards her. Ginny swallowed.

Well, she supposed that spending the rest of her life as a ferret wouldn't be _so _bad…

…Oh, who the hell was she kidding. 

Without any further deliberation, Ginny finally opted for the most blunt approach. "What do you think _you're doing_?" she retorted, using his own question in order to turn the situation around. Her gaze attentively watched, as the scowl on his face grew more apparent with every second. She was waiting for him to launch at her or something, which, given his sadistic disposition, wasn't exactly a far-fetched possibility.

In fact, she was almost beginning to wonder what was taking him so long. There were the injuries, of coarse. But who was to say that _that _would prevent Draco Malfoy? 

Draco's intense glare suddenly shifted to the wand in her hand---_his _wand. Slowly, as if directly taken from a scene found in a horror story, an amused sort of smile played on his lips, an action that Ginny found completely unnerving.

"I'd put that down, if I were you," he warned, his voice matter-of-fact.

"What, so you can kill me?"

Draco shifted his position, ignoring the sharp spasm of pain that followed. Ginny noticed the momentary flash of agony that flickered in his eyes, only to vanish just as soon as it had appeared. "No," he drawled, "because you don't know how to _use _the goddamned thing, and I rather like having my head connected to the rest of my body," the boy seethed.

Eyebrows knitted, Virginia immediately wished for nothing more than to have Draco's wand out of her hands and to never have to see it again. Besides, her palms had become quite clammy, and Ginny was afraid that she might drop the thin piece of carved wood. But…if she allowed Draco to have the upper hand, there was no telling what would happen.  "I'll take my chances, then," she replied coolly, trying her best to remain somewhat calm and collected.

"Suit yourself," he sarcastically mumbled under his breath.

"Now," she continued, a slight frown marring her features. "What are you doing here?" Moving the tip of the wand in a thin circular motion (all the while frightened out of her wits), Ginny seemed to firmly stand her ground. "And I want a straight answer out of you, Malfoy."

Ginny swore she could've heard a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat. "Well you're not going to get one!" he rebuked, and before she knew it, Draco was using what little strength he had in his arms and legs to push his body fully off of the bed. Standing himself upright, he began to advance towards the red-haired girl, who was already hastily backing away in the direction of the closed bedroom door.

"Look," she breathed, as Draco roughly grabbed her wrist, jerking her back towards the center of the room, "I don't wish to hurt you!" Virginia could feel her skin twisting under his tight grip; she was definitely going to have a bruise or two the next day. "I-I want to help you," she pleaded, trying to tear her wrist free, only to have his grasp become tighter.

"Bullshit," he spit with utter vehemence. "If you think I'm going to trust you, Weasley, you're sadly mistaken." Ginny quickly glanced at the blood on his shirt before uneasily looking away.

"I don't expect you to trust me," she hurriedly replied, her quiet voice restless. "But I can help you," Virginia slowly persisted. "You're obviously hurt, and you can't very well go back outside in--" using her free hand to gesture towards the window "--_that_ weather!"

Draco's eyes dimmed briefly from exhaustion, his grip unconsciously loosening, as well. Jerking his hand away, he angrily stumbled back towards the bed.

A mixture of anger, pity, and fear had swept over the youngest Weasley, emotion and logic playing a most aggravating game of mental warfare. Draco was obviously dangerous, and yet she felt compelled to help him.  

Ginny began to open her mouth, but was interrupted at once by an opening door and two cheerful male voices from below. Two voices that caused the silver-haired teen to lurch his head in the direction of the small wooden door.

"Oy! Ginny!" Fred.

"Hey Gin! We're back, and we've got some Toad Tongues and Lizard Skins!" And George.

Upstairs, Virginia was frantically glancing between the door and Draco's nervous form. "I'll…go take care of them," she quickly stated. "Please, just---stay here." 

"I haven't got anywhere else to go," he replied, annoyance evident in his tone, meanwhile idly looking out the window, watching the delicate flakes of snowfall. 

Closing the door behind her, Ginny hastily grabbed a warm-colored duster that was hanging from one of the hooks out in the hallway. The little sweater was old and tattered, some of the weavings obviously undone, just like almost everything else her family and her owned. She loosely draped it over her shoulders and pulled the flaps around her front, so as to cover up some of the blood and dirt that had gotten on her shirt. 

Ginny had also cleverly taken Malfoy's wand with her, and so she stuffed the thing in one of the pockets, thankful to no longer have it in her hands.

Making her way downstairs, the redhead greeted the two of her brothers with a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and nervously fiddling with the loose ends of the duster. 

"Hey listen Gin," George began, while unpacking the little shopping bag filled with some of the most disgusting goodies Virginia had ever seen. "I was wondering if you could close tonight? Fred and I want to rummage through our room. Think we might have some supplies we could use for these babies," he smiled, pointing to a package of Lizard Skins in his hand. 

"Mr. Banges just got 'em. Imported from some place," Fred interjected; taking a very large bite from a strawberry cream-filled pastry that had been sitting on the counter. "Wicked, eh?" Ginny could just make out what he was saying; his mouth was so stuffed. He was also completely unaware of the nice blob of jelly resting on the tip of his nose.

"Very," the girl answered, and if it hadn't been for the silver-haired menace residing on the floor above her, she would have been giggling at Fred's blatant display of silliness. "Uhm, well why don't you two head over to the Burrow now?" Anything to get them out of the store, particularly as far away as possible from upstairs. "I don't have any trouble closing," she assured. 

"Thanks Gin," George smiled, patting his little sister on the back before apparating. 

Taking the last bite of his pastry, Fred grinned, the combination of his smile and the blob of jelly on his nose making him look like some creature with hoofs from one of those Muggle Christmas tales. "Later Gin!" And he was gone.

The redhead released a long, deserved sigh of relief before returning to Mr. Zonko's old bedroom upstairs. Draco was still sitting on the bed, seemingly in thought, with his head in his hands. He looked up at the sound of her entrance. 

Leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded, she seemed to be concentrating hard on Draco. Irritated, he asked, "What?" 

Biting on her bottom lip, she thought for a moment. "You'll need some clothes…and something to eat," Virginia began. "And whether you're willing to admit it or not, you need my help. Because right now you're pretty much helpless, and I don't know very many people here who would be as hospitable to you as I am." 

Draco continued to stare at her, his expression cold, wondering where she was going with this. 

"So don't pull anymore crap like you did a few minutes ago," she added rather straightforwardly. A pause, then, "Agreed?" 

Draco was silent, and somehow the redhead knew that was a 'yes'.


	4. Rat out of Water

A/N: Draco may be a little odd this chapter, but as described in the books, Azkaban has a bad effect on its prisoners' mentality.

Disclaimer: Although I wish I did, I do not own any of the characters, spells, blah de dah, et cetera. Oh and I don't own Train, either.

Rat out of Water

Azkaban had been a nightmare in which he could not escape. Two years he had spent there. Two fucking, miserable years. And yet, he knew he had deserved a far more longer sentence than what he had gotten. Those two years were the most darkest and vile of his entire life; never would he forget them, never _could _he forget them, for their strength and their cruelty had forever damaged his soul. He was now a shattered excuse for a human being, a filthy, nasty beast with the bitterest heart and the most biting sneer. Pride no longer held him together; pride could no longer save him, could neither offer him amity nor comfort. For Draco Malfoy, that ship was long gone, never to return. The only thing that had yet remained was anger, and quite presumably that anger was more directed toward himself than anyone else. _That's what you get, _he thought. 

_You deserve every fucking bit of it_.

He still remembered the dementors; in fact, among all other things, they were what most haunted him during the far hours of night. He had criticized others, for they had feared the creatures so very deeply. Draco had laughed at them, pointed a mocking finger at them in the hallways. Alas, he had not been aware of their power, and so it had seemed that the boy was long overdue for a rude awakening. And that was exactly what he had gotten.

The prison cells. Dirty, isolated cages, tarnished from the other shamefaced wizards that had once existed there. They had died, for rarely did a man ever get released from Azkaban. There were, however, exceptions, and uncommon though they were, Draco had been one of the very few that had been pardoned. In his mind, though, he was not worthy of such an opportunity. Why was he so fucking special, that he got to leave? He was the worst of them all. He was Draco Malfoy. A Death Eater, and a damn wicked one at that. Why did he get to leave…when there were others still imprisoned for far lesser of crimes than his?

Someone at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had apparently decided that Malfoy had been young and foolish at the time…disillusioned even. Ha. They were the only ones that were _disillusioned_. So this was his second chance then. Draco laughed bitterly. Sure as hell didn't feel like a _second chance_.   

He was convinced he had gone mad. Surely a sane man would not act like this, would not _think and feel _like this; indeed, he had flipped his lid after all. What they had said was true.

"Shit," Draco breathed, running a hand over his face, visibly frustrated. He had barely slept last night; too many damn things keeping him awake. Not that he wasn't used to it, though, for it was mighty difficult to rest in an Azkaban prison cell, what with all the dementors hovering around one's chamber and the ceaseless moans coming from the countless other criminals. 

He sat up in bed, resting his elbows on his knees. It was snowing again outside; he'd be damned if it ever stopped. Draco was feeling rather cramped from lying in the bed for so long, but didn't want to risk leaving the room. He could at least stand up, though. And so he did; the boy walked over to the window, a slight stagger still present in his gait. Raising his arms over his head, Draco stretched his arm muscles, which hurt a little less to-day. He supposed he had the redhead to thank for that, not that he would or anything, much less even consider it. She still had his wand, and he wanted it back. A wizard's wand was like an extension of that person; without a source of magic, one felt utterly helpless, vulnerable.

Just then, there was a gentle knock on the door, which caused Draco to slightly recoil. "It's me," came Ginny's apprehensive voice. At least she had the decency to knock, he thought. Wondering what she wanted now, he roughly opened the door.

Ginny had all of her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, with the exception of two small portions of hair, which framed her freckled face on either side. In her arms was a medium-sized stack of what appeared to be clothing. "What?" he asked, and Ginny swore his voice was devoid of any emotion.

She hesitated. "I've got some of Fred and George's clothes here; they should do for now, at least." Virginia was blushing slightly, barely noticeable, but her face felt as if it were fire. Draco still scared the hell out of her, to say the least. "Uhm…" she paused, "well, here you go." Ginny extended her arms a little, willing him to accept the shirts and jeans. He did not take them. Instead he stood there, staring down at her as if he were in deep thought. 

"Why do you look at me like that?" he suddenly blurted out, a tint of anger evident in his tone. After seeing the look of confusion on her face, he reiterated, "Why do you look so afraid?" Crossing his arms, he continued, "Do you think I'm going to hurt you?"

"…I don't know," she replied, and truthfully, she did not know. 

Glaring, he took the clothes and set them down on the bed. Draco was frustrated, to say the least; why was he even here, in this --- this _pitiful_ excuse for a house? He did not quite remember everything that had happened since his release. Fragments at most floated around the surface of his memory; there were men…they had been angry and drunk…blood, his blood, their blood, and then…

…He knew nothing more.

And somehow he had ended up in Hogsmeade, of all places, clothing ripped, body sore, so cold---

"Might I have my wand back?" voiced Draco, slowly and deliberately. Ginny did not reply, the stubborn little rat, he thought, very much annoyed. "I promise not to kill you," he included quite acidly. Still nothing. "Damnit!" he swore loudly, furiously running his hands through his hair. 

Ginny realized that this was not the same Draco that she had known at Hogwarts; he was different now…he had changed. He was still cruel, of course, but…something had happened to him, though she was not sure exactly what. And if possible, that fact alone made her fear him even more.

"Answer me!" he yelled. 

"What is _wrong_ with you!? You're _mad_!" 

"I'll tell you what's _wrong _with me," he drawled, "I'm stuck in this god-damned house and I can't leave and most of all, I'm stuck with _you_." His voice was full of malevolence, and his body shook.

"Then by all means, go." This time Draco said nothing, and for a few horrid minutes, the entire room was completely shrouded in silence. "Perhaps you should eat," she finally commented.

"I'm not hungry."

"Fine."

Silence again conquered the room. Ginny looked down before twisting the knob on the door, preparing to leave. Her back facing the other occupant of the room, she mumbled, "So you know, it's quite early, and the shoppe does not open for another few hours." And then she left, closing the hard wooden door behind her.

Fifteen minutes later, Draco was fully dressed in the most humiliating attire he had ever seen. _Weasley_ clothing, he thought nastily. The jeans were slightly worn at the ends, and the shirt looked as if it had been knitted. Pathetic. Perhaps if he had his wand he could magic in a far more decent set of garments. He would get it back, that much he knew. Even if he had to harm the wretched Weasel, he would retrieve what was his.

He turned his head to regard the door, wondering if he should go down or not, for he had lied; Draco _was _hungry. In truth, he was famished. When was the last time he had eaten? Malfoy felt rather weak, not to mention horribly parched. 

Glaring at the door, he allowed his hunger to prevail. Perhaps this damned place would have some kitchen of the sort, he considered with a sneer.

Virginia heard footsteps descending the old staircase and started slightly. She had not expected him to stay in the room all day, but the thought of Draco coming down still startled her. It meant he was now strong enough to walk, strong enough to hurt her…kill her…

Ginny mentally shook away the thought. No, if Malfoy had wanted to kill her, then he would have done it already…right? 

Needless to say, she had her doubts.

The youngest Weasley had made him something to eat, and she was not yet sure what had possessed her to do so. There had been some eggs and flour in the cupboard, and so she'd magicked together scrambled eggs and pancakes. Ginny had figured he must be hungry; he hadn't eaten a thing since he'd 'arrived' at the store. She could only imagine how long it'd been before that. Besides, maybe his temperament would settle a bit if he ate something. 

Doubtfully, she mused.

"There's some breakfast on the counter in the other room," she gestured to Draco, who'd just reached the bottom of the steps. "If you're hungry, that is," Ginny added, the corner of her rose-coloured lips curving upwards just a slight bit. 

He only nodded as he moved toward the entrance of the small kitchen. 

A few seconds later, he reappeared at the doorway, a rather suspicious look displayed across his pale, chiseled face. "You haven't put any poison in it or anything, have you?" he bit out.

"Only a little," she evenly replied, using her wand to scribble down the day's special onto the large chalkboard posted on the wall. 

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy returned to the other room, obviously not taking her sarcasm seriously.

Only this time, the red-haired girl followed him.

"Why did you come here?" she asked, observing Draco as he sat down and picked up a fork.

"What are you talking about?" he replied, not really paying attention.

"Before you collapsed," she clarified, "I distinctly recall you saying, 'So it's true.' What did you mean by that?" Ginny crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe and watching as Draco took a rather generous bite of food.

        "Oh," he paused, "that." Then a smirk appeared on his face (which earned a frown from Ginny), before he said, "Saw the sign 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' on the door and couldn't trust my own eyes. I mean it's rather hard to believe a family like yours would ever have their own business."

"Well, it's also _rather hard to believe _someone like you would end up at my door all bloodied up." 

Setting down the fork, he clapped his hands twice, evidently mocking her. "Grown up, have you?"

"Don't change the subject. You've yet to answer my question," she retorted. "I want to know why you're here. I mean, you disappeared for quite a while and then…what, you just decided to show up in Hogsmeade looking half dead?"

"Reckon it seems that way," he offhandedly replied.

"Ugh," Virginia exclaimed, holding out her arms in exasperation. "I don't know why I even _try _to get information out of you. You're positively hopeless."

At this, Draco stood up, having finished eating. There was still food on the plate, but as he hadn't been eating, it wasn't best to stuff himself now. However, his stomach felt a little fuller now, and that was improvement enough.

"You want answers, do you?" he growled. "Oh, I could tell you a whole lot things, alright. Stories that would make your hair stand on its _very end_." His eyes stared dangerously into hers, face twisted into a look of pure malice; Malfoy was definitely no longer kidding. 

Ginny could say nothing. Whatever Malfoy had experienced, she was no longer sure she wished to know.

But before she could reply, even if it was just to change the subject, he had left the room. Now the silver-haired teen stood in front of the frosty window, arms crossed, a strange, distant look present on his features. 

He might as well have been miles away, she decided.


End file.
